Poison
by monoxide girl
Summary: His lips burn and his words sting. [Oneshot.][AkuDemy, mentions of AkuRoku][Rated for SexualityLanguage][Complete.]


_AN: A fic I wrote for happycrabmearii on LJ. It turned out pretty good and she liked it, so I decided to post it. Since I haven't put anything up in a little while._

_I like how Axel came out, but Demyx could be better._

**Poison**

_Dead punk Girl_

He is just the replacement, and he knows it. Demyx thinks it should bother him, maybe, but he's not surprised that it doesn't. He knows that Axel only comes to him, rarely, when he's got nothing better to do, no one better to do.

One day, he'll see me, he tells himself as the red-head traces his lips across his neck, leaving trails of slight tingling sensations, his skin burning from the contact. His eyes flutter shut and he bites his lip hard to keep from speaking.

There's too many things he wants to say, wants to know, wants to question. But he doesn't want to chase Axel away because only god knows how long it'll be until he comes back again, bored and seeking something that Demyx doesn't care to know about.

Axel doesn't care, not really. Demyx is just there when no one else is, and he finds himself thinking that the blond beneath him is really pathetic. Really fucking pathetic. And it's kind of sad, and Axel thinks that if he could pity someone, he'd pity Demyx.

But he can't, so he doesn't.

In some small corner of his subconscious, Demyx knows he should be honored. He's the one Axel goes to, sort of. That should be something.

It really isn't.

Axel takes what he wants, it's a blowjob this time, and Demyx doesn't complain when he gets nothing out of it.

He presses his mouth against the blond's quickly and Demyx distantly notes that his lips taste like the poison he speaks,

"Don't look so down," He purrs, green eyes watching his, "Your face is liable to get stuck in that pout. Then you'd be even goofier looking."

Demyx shuts his eyes halfway, looks down, nods stiffly. Forces a smile, it's become a habit with him; "'Kay."

"There. You're less ugly that way."

Axel isn't even sure why he says the things he does to Demyx. The blond isn't ugly, silly, yes, but not ugly. One day he knows that he'll grow his backbone back and finally refuse him. But, for the time being, this works and if the blond is too meek to say anything, then whatever.

Suits him just fine.

Demyx thinks, idly, that if he had a heart -- which he's sure he does, sometimes -- Axel would have probably crushed it into fine powder days, weeks, months ago. Either that, or it would have become so poisoned by his sick, twisted words that it would be rotting in his chest, like Acid was just poured all over it.

Only the heart is a metaphor, he supposes, because he can still feel it beating against his ribcage. And Axel's already poisoned him to the point that no matter how bad it gets, he will not just stop this.

He knows what's best for him, of course, and that would be getting rid of the red-head for good. He's a liar, and a killer, and a backstabber. He uses those around him, Demyx is aware, and he's cruel.

But still.

"When are you coming back?" Demyx finds himself asking slowly as Axel pulls back. The red-head shrugs his shoulders absently, like the question means nothing.

"Don't know."

"Okay."

"Why? Miss me already?"

"Yeah," He lies, looking up at him, "I guess so."

"Aw, well aren't you the sweetie?" Axel cooes at him, reaching out to ruffle already messy blond hair, "I don't know, blondie. I'll come back eventually. Got shit to do."

"Okay."

**-x-**

And he's there again, tracing his tongue up the blond's pulse, over his jaw, his mouth pressing firmly to his a moment later. Demyx's eyes are shut, and Axel's fingers are digging hard into his hip -- he can feel his nails even through the leather of his jacket.

He pulls back, ducking his head to press it back to his throat, his breathing slightly laboured. Demyx can feel his coat sticking to his sides and his shirt feels ten times too hot. He squirms, quickly going still when he feels Axel's nails bite harder into him.

"It doesn't mean anything," He hisses into the shell of his ear, "You know that, right?"

"...Yeah."

"Don't think it does."

Demyx feels his stomach clench, "I won't."

"You're just someone I fuck around with, okay?"

Ouch.

"Okay."

"I don't even like you."

"I know."

Demyx isn't sure who Axel's trying to convince, but it hurts nonetheless. Not that he didn't know all this to begin with...

but still.

Hearing it all outloud made it that much more painful. He nearly sighs in relief when Axel apparently gives up trying to talk to him, taking the lobe of his ear into his mouth, biting on it hard enough to be painful.

"Axel?"

"What?" He hisses, sounding annoyed at being interupted, again. Demyx inhales before he continues; "Will...it ever mean anything?"

"No. It won't."

"...Okay."

This is when he is supposed to push him back, throw him away. Get rid of the poison. But he can't; Axel's leeched onto him like a parasite and he can't throw him off.

"...Um...Axel?"

"What _now_?"

"Sorry I'm not...sorry I'm not Roxas."

This catches him off guard and he jerks his head back to blink dumbly at him, "Huh?"

Demyx knows he's playing dumb; they've had this conversation before. He sighs and shakes his head a little,

"Forget it."

"You're never going to be Roxas," Axel murmurs as he leans back down, nipping at his neck, "So get that out of your head. You're the replacement."

"...I know."

Axel leaves his room afterwards without saying a proper goodbye. He just kind of waves back at him, and that is the extent of the whole thing.

**-x-**

"It doesn't mean anything!" Axel cries, whirling to glare at Demyx, "**You** don't mean anything!" He's moments away from smacking the blond across the mouth, "I've told you that!"

"I know...but--"

"No! It.doesn't.mean.anything!"

Demyx's hands clench into fists a little, and he's tempted to throw Axel out of his room. He tried to ask him about his reasons, the meaning of all that had transpired between them. What he had gotten was a screaming match.

"I know that, Axel, but I..."

"It's not all about you!"

He doesn't know why Demyx isn't understanding, why he isn't getting the concept. It would be so easy for him to reach out and slap him clear across the face. That would shut him up. He isn't listening; Axel hates it when people don't listen.

"No, it's all about you!" Demyx shoots back, surprised at the own force in his voice, "All about what you want! That's...that's probably why Roxas did leave you! Because you're a--"

He's cut off when Axel's hand reaches out and promptly hits him. It stings and all he can do is blink dumbly, not sure what to say.

"You have no idea about what you're talking about, Demyx. So I suggest you shut your mouth, and watch it."

He touches his cheek lightly and nods, "O-Okay."

Demyx wants to hit him back, but he can't make his hand move, can't make himself react right. He's truly gotten pathetic, he thinks, as much as he hates the idea. He's become too poisoned by Axel's words, by his sweetly tainted words.

The red-head storms out after that, only aware of how his palm stung.

**-x-**

Demyx has a burn on his cheek from where Axel slapped him. He thinks it's a punishment, a constant reminder for what he said, for what he did.

He refuses to look in the mirror; he doesn't want to remember.

Axel doesn't see it as that. He sees it as a punishment for himself; whenever he sees that blond at dinner, he has to look at that ugly mark -- and what if it scars, he wonders, -- and remember. He thinks he feels bad. Demyx is so willing to please, and all he can do is treat him like he does. But the moment passes once the blond leaves and Axel could care less again.

**-x-**

Demyx doesn't protest when his back collides with the wall that night after dinner. Axel's lips are on his and they're burning; he can feel the heat prickling his neck, making him sweat, making his coat stick to his back, and his pants uncomfortable.

"I hate you," Axel breathes when he pulls back, eyes meeting Demyx's, "I hate you, you know that."

He nods a little, "Yeah. Yeah, I do."

Axel rewards the response with another one of his turpentine kisses, his lips sending more toxic lies into his system. Idly, Demyx thinks that maybe it's in his blood-stream, spreading like rapid fire through his system, burning up all that was good inside him. But there's no good left -- he's a nobody and that's that.

But it doesn't matter, not really.

Axel fucks him into the matress, face down. It's easier that way; he can't see anything more than a slender waist and broad shoulders, followed by a mess of blond hair. It's easy to pretend it's Roxas that way. That's what Axel wants.

He leans down into Demyx's ear, thankful he can't see his face, his hand coming to trace the burn lightly, his fingers warm,

"Sorry about that," He growls, "I didn't mean to burn you."

Mistake.

Demyx isn't surprised by that. That's the way things went with them. Axel and his turpentine kisses, and mistaken blows.

It was the accidents that hurt the most.


End file.
